Like a Prayer

“Look, I know I’m not exactly the church on Sunday type,” Tony breathed. “And maybe if I ever got in a confessional, it’d take the better part of a day to get through the whole list.” He bent at the waist, all too conscious of the fact that the remaining armor was weighing him down. One hand found a rock- a pretty half-assed weapon, sure, but better than nothing if it came to that. And of course it was going to come to that. That was how his life worked. “But if any god’s out there listening right now, it would be one hell of a chance to make me a believer.”

A response came with startling immediacy, a whisper so near to his ear that he could feel the warm breath of the speaker. “Now, tell me. Is that an official prayer?” The voice was low and soft like dark silk, and if anything could have made this moment worse, it was recognizing who that voice belonged to- and then having his brain catch up and recognize who that voice belonged to. He and the universe, Tony Stark told himself, would have to have a little heart-to-heart about expectations.